“Shit.” Now I feel bad for the guy, even though Sloane is in a similar situation. “I think Markham had him killed,” I whisper.

“Because he didn’t return a book on time?” Imogen’s eyebrows rise.

“I think he asked for something he shouldn’t have, and yes, I know that sounds absolutely ridiculous, but there’s no other explanation for him being found in his room, beaten to death.”

“Right,” Imogen muses. “That only makes sense if he’s one of us.”

To others, it fits in with what Panchek is calling a particularly brutal start to the year. I’m the only one in our group who hasn’t had another attempt made on their life.

“You’d better be really careful around your little robed friend if scribes are running out there ordering the death of riders.”

“Jesinia isn’t a threat,” I protest, but my words die in my throat as I remember that it was her report that got Jacek taken in the first place.

“Let’s end it,” the squad leader from Second Wing suggests after Sloane gets knocked to the mat again.

“I’m fine!” Sloane staggers to her feet, wiping blood from her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Are you sure?” Rhi asks, her tone implying it’s absolutely the wrong decision, which we all know it is.

“Definitely.” Sloane takes a fighting stance against Jacek.

“Glutton for punishment, that one,” Imogen says. “It’s like she wants to have the shit kicked out of her.”

“I don’t understand.” Aaric shifts ahead of me, his back blocking the view, and I maneuver to see the mat. “I thought everyone marked was trained to fight.”

“Depends on where we were fostered.” Imogen moves forward with me. “And after Xaden started to climb the ranks…well, some of the families in charge stopped training us, according to what I’m hearing from the first-years. Good thing she wasn’t on the challenge board this week.”

Jacek puts Sloane on the mat for what feels like the hundredth time, then brings his knee to her throat, making his point. If this were real, she’d be in a world of trouble.

“Her first is on Monday, and she’s going to have her ass handed to her if not worse.” I unsheathe a dagger and flip it, catching it by the tip, like my skills can in any way help her when she won’t even speak to me.

“Monday?” Imogen turns slowly to look at me. “And how would you know that?”

Shit. Well, it’s not like she isn’t already holding almost every secret that could get me killed. “Long story, but…a book my brother wrote.”

“Who is Sloane up against?” She pivots back toward the mat.

“You’re not going to ask about the book I shouldn’t have?”

“No. I, unlike some people, don’t feel the need to know everything someone else deems private.”

I scoff at the obvious dig. “Yeah, well, you’re not sleeping with me.”

“You wish you were my type. I’m phenomenal in bed.” Her nose scrunches when Sloane face-plants into the mat. “Seriously. Who is she against?”

“Someone she can’t beat.” A first-year from Third Wing who moves like she’s been sparring since birth. It had taken me the better part of an hour to find someone who could point the girl out earlier in the gym.

“I’ve offered to help her,” Imogen says quietly. “She won’t take it.”

“Why the hell not?” I catch my knife, flipping it with total muscle memory.

Imogen sighs. “No fucking clue, but her stubbornness is going to get her killed.”

I watch Liam’s sister struggle under Jacek’s weight, her face splotchy and red from the exertion, and blow out a slow, resigned breath, my fist closing around the hilt of the dagger. The unspoken rule of the quadrant is to let the strong weed out the weak before they can become a liability to the wing. As a rider, I should walk away. I should let Sloane rise or fall on her own merits. But as Liam’s friend, there’s no way I can stand by and watch her die. “Not on Monday, she won’t.”

“You suddenly develop Melgren’s signet over there?” Imogen retorts, tucking a chin-length strand of pink hair behind her ear.

“I’m calling it!” Rhi shouts, ending the match, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Not exactly.” Glancing around the gym, I locate Sloane’s opponent for Monday. “I just need to do a couple of things after physics, but I’ll see you for our gym session tonight.” What muscles I have are all due to Imogen’s dedication to torturing me at the weight machines since last year.

“How is that class going for you, anyway?” Imogen asks with a sarcastic smile, damn well knowing that I couldn’t make it through without Rhiannon’s help. I might lead our year in history, geography, and every other subject that crosses over with the scribes, but physics? Not my specialty.

“Hey, Vi—” A hand curls over the top of my shoulder from behind me, and my heart surges, beating painfully in my ears.

Not again.

Muscle memory takes over as I spin around, dislodging the grip, and push my left forearm against a leather-clad chest, catching the assailant off-balance and allowing me to shove him the few inches backward into the wall while whipping my dagger to his tattooed throat in one instinctual motion.

“Hey, hey!” Ridoc’s eyes bulge as he throws his hands up, palms outward. “Violet!”

I blink quickly as the knot in his throat bobs, scraping the edge of my blade.

Ridoc. It’s not an assassin. It’s just Ridoc.

Adrenaline pours into my system, and my hand trembles slightly as I lower the weapon. “Sorry,” I mumble.

“For nearly dissecting my jugular?” Ridoc sidesteps before lowering his hands. “I knew you were fast, but damn.”

Mortification deprives me of words as heat rushes into my face. I nearly slit my friend’s throat. Somehow, I find the sheath.

“You should know better than to sneak up on someone,” Imogen lectures, her calm tone at odds with the knife she clutches in her left hand.

“I’m sorry. Won’t do it again,” he promises, his gaze shifting to worry as he glances over my shoulder. “I just figured I’d see if you wanted to walk to physics. Sawyer’s already by the door.”

“Everything all right?” Rhi asks, walking to my side as she slips her satchel over her shoulder.

“All good,” Imogen answers. “You’re doing a great job as squad leader, by the way. It was a good idea to get the first-years extra sparring time.”

“Thanks?” Rhi stares at Imogen like she’s grown a second nose.

“See you tonight.” Imogen sheathes her knife and looks at me with more understanding than I want either of us to have as she backs away. “I’m going to offer my help to Mairi. Again.”

I nod.

“You sure everything is good?” Rhi asks as I pick up my pack from the floor and nearly drop it with my jitters. Stupid fucking adrenaline.

“Perfect.” I force the fakest smile known to humankind. “Let’s go to physics. Yay physics.”